


The Warmth of Worthiness

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [165]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Affection, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Good Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Feels, Reader-Insert, Tickling, Warm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Loki’s body is warmer than anyone else might expect, and so is his heart.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [165]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 10
Kudos: 178





	The Warmth of Worthiness

Loki was a lot warmer than you could ever have expected. 

Maybe it was silly of you, but he _was_ descended from beings called Frost Giants, after all, and was it truly all that silly to have certain expectations attached to a name like that? The first time he took your hand, you’d gasped out loud. Part of your shock was, of course, because you never expected him to lower himself to touch someone like you, but his hand was also so damn _warm_. He tried to pull away at first—later, he told you he’d figured you didn’t want him touching you like that—but you were quick to tighten your hand on his. 

You were cold a lot. Growing up, you had always been the coldest one in the room. In any room. In every room. When others around you were wearing short sleeves and exclaiming about the return of warm spring weather, you were trying not to sulk as you huddled in a thick coat. Over time, you’d come to terms with it, and you’d grown into someone who didn’t care when someone else made fun of you for wearing warm sweaters and fuzzy socks. But when Loki took your hand that first time, and you felt the warmth of his skin beginning to seep into yours, you couldn’t give that up. 

In your past relationships, you hadn’t really been very touchy. Something always kept you from feeling entirely comfortable just cuddling up to another person. Too many people in your past had made comments about how cold your fingers always were, and as gentle and loving as those comments could sound, sometimes, the sheer number of them weighed heavily upon you. You didn’t like touching people, especially when it was unexpected. Often, it made them flinch away from you, and then laugh, and then make still another comment. But Loki never did. Even that first time, when you couldn’t possibly have blamed him for exclaiming something about your fingers and perhaps bringing your hand up to his mouth so he could blow hot breath on it, he didn’t. He just laced his fingers through yours and gave you a smile that was at once stiff and hopeful.

As soon as Loki broke those floodgates, that was it. You loved winding yourself around him, partly because he was lovely and starved for touch and affection, but also because you took a greedy sort of pleasure in his warmth. He didn’t seem to mind. On your good days, you told yourself that he even seemed to enjoy it. Any time you sidled up next to him and pulled his arm around your shoulders, he always gave a low hum and held you even closer. Sometimes he was too distracted, deeply enthralled in a book or a conversation, and he wouldn’t look over at you, but he almost always turned slightly to press an absent-minded kiss to your temple. 

You’d never been involved with someone for whom affection was so automatic. When Thor regaled the team with stories from his youth—stories in which Loki was typically terrorizing Thor or withholding affection from him in some way—you found yourself studying Thor’s face. He didn’t appear to be lying. Not knowingly, anyway. But then how could you reconcile the Loki who was Thor’s prickly and sullen younger brother with the Loki who touched you so carefully, like you were something precious? You wanted to ask Loki about it. The question grew ever larger and more pressing in the back of your mind with every story that you overheard. 

Loki, however, had a way of making you forget all of that. Tonight, his arm draped around you as you sat beside him on the sofa. His eyes and mind were occupied with the book he was reading, but his fingertips drew gentle patterns against your shoulder. It felt like didn’t have to be thinking about you in order to want to touch you. These quiet moments were not terribly rare for the two of you, but you treasured them all the same. You squirmed against him a little, as you often did: doing so let you feel him more intensely, let you soak in the feeling of his body against your own. He hardly ever seemed to mind. Tonight, perhaps you went on just a little too long, because he lifted his chin and turned to look at you.

“Alright, love?” As it always did, his his all but dripped with affection. Something hot and angry surged within you: If only Thor could see this, he’d never breathe a word of those stupid old stories ever again. You nodded slowly, not quite trusting yourself to speak just yet. He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re moving a lot. I thought you might be uncomfortable.”

You gave one last wriggle, as though settling in against him, but then murmured your apology. “Sorry. I just—you feel really good. You’re warm and...just...lovely. I can’t get enough of you. Does anybody else know how warm you are?”

He laughed quietly and looked down at his book. Something about that made you uneasy. Maybe that was a question you didn’t really want to know the answer to. He was much, much older than you, after all, and he was royalty besides. Of course he’d had other lovers. Early on in your relationship with him, he wasn’t particularly cuddly, but there was no way on Earth that you were his first. And he definitely wasn’t from Earth.

“It’s alright,” you said quickly, before he could so much as draw in a breath to speak. “Don’t answer that. Just...I love you, you know that? If I could make the whole world see you like this, I’d do it, and the people in the streets would stop looking at you the way they do now, and you could have more peace. But maybe I don’t want to share you? Like, I don’t want everyone to see this because this feels like it’s just mine. Or...ours. Or mine.” You knew you were babbling. You were fully aware of it. But maybe you were trying to fill the silence so he couldn’t speak up to tell you about all the other people he’d held like this.

He stayed quiet for a little while longer. Your cheeks burned a little. It was dumb to bring any of that up at all. You should have just apologized for squirming and then let him get back to his book. It was hard to imagine him ever losing his patience with you and telling you to get off of him, but surely he’d be well within his rights to do it. You held back a sigh, but lowered your head to rest your cheek against his chest. Heat radiated through him, through his clothing, and it soothed your ego just enough to allow you to close your eyes.

But, just as you did, you heard him close his book. You tried not to groan, but forced yourself to sit up a little. If he wanted to get up, you would let him, even if you’d literally just gotten truly comfortable against him.

“You’re not going anywhere, pretty girl.” He tightened his arm around your shoulders so he could drag you back against his body. Of course you couldn’t bring yourself to fight him very hard. At least, not until his fingers slipped downwards and he dug them into your ribcage. Laughter bubbled out of you, almost against your will, and you writhed under his touch. “Distracting me with that lovely body of yours, wriggling against me like you’ve no idea what it does to me? You’ve got my attention now, darling. Is this what you wanted?” His voice was a purr, a low growl, something low and dark and _delicious_ , even if it was a little hard to fully appreciate it with the way he was tickling you. In vain, you tried to catch his hand with yours, but of course his strength was no match for your own. If anything, your attempt seemed to amuse him. You heard the way he laughed just before slipping out of your grasp.

“Loki!” you gasped out his name without truly having any idea as to what to say after that. You had never really enjoyed being tickled, but it was like your body knew him well enough to know he’d stop when it got to be too much. So maybe you allowed yourself to wriggle against him a little more than you really needed to. “Please, Loki...”

He encircled your wrist with the fingers of his free hand, and you couldn’t help but groan at the warmth that immediately began to seep into your skin. He pulled your hand away from your body, which left you feeling uncomfortably exposed. Then he lowered his head to kiss your temple once again, and made you shiver.

“Please what, darling? Do you want me to stop, or shall I keep going?”

Why was it so difficult a question for you to answer? Of course you wanted him to stop tickling you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. If he stopped, he might go back to reading. If he stopped, he might go back to thinking about those past lovers. If he stopped, you might lose the warmth of his touch. You gasped for breath as you struggled to free yourself—but not quite as hard as you should have. He must have noticed, because you heard him laugh again as he nuzzled against the side of your head.

“Are you so helpless? Are you so desperate for my touch that you’ll withstand this sort of torture? Sweet girl, know that you only have to ask and I’ll do whatever you want.” God, you loved it when he used that voice to tease you. Even without looking at him, you knew that he was grinning. 

“Touch me, then!” You arched your back as though to get away from him and tried to twist your arm free. “Please just touch me, Loki, that’s all I want.”

And just like that, he went still. His hand trailed lower, until it was creeping past the hem of your shirt to slide up along the curve of your waist. You flinched nervously, but he kept a solid weight in his touch. You could only feel the warmth of him; no more tickling. Goosebumps followed in the wake of his touch, and then those lovely pleasant chills that made you close your eyes and sigh. He caressed the skin of your ribcage, the skin of your belly, fingers spread wide as though to take you all in. He was always so meditative when he touched you like this. It made you wonder if it was possible for him to take as much pleasure in this as you did. 

When he let go of your wrist, you were quick to snake your hand up and around his neck so you could twine your fingers in his hair and tug on it gently. That always made his eyes slide closed. Sometimes it even made him groan softly, quietly. Tonight, he did. The sound stirred something deep inside you, and you smiled.

“In all my life,” he began slowly. Thoughtfully. “No one has ever made me feel the way you do.” His fingers traced your navel gently before sweeping along the rest of your belly. “The way I crave your touch, it’s...alarming. Or it _would_ be, if you had not already shown me over and over again that you would never use it against me. I have never known one like you. So soft, so pliant. So bloody _stubborn_.” He dug his fingers into your ribcage once again, but only once. In no time at all, he was back to caressing your skin. “No one in all the realms has shown me even a fraction of the patience that you have shown me. No one has made me feel as though I do not need to be worthy of their affections—because they’ll just keep giving them relentlessly, whether I’m worthy or not.” There was a rather uncharacteristic seriousness in his words. In another situation, it might have made you nervous, but here in his arms like this, there was no room for that. When his hand finally fell still against you, you pressed your own on top of it and hoped he could not feel the way yours trembled. 

“You _are_ worthy.” Maybe they didn’t feel like quite the right words to be saying, but it felt even more wrong to let that go unacknowledged. “You’re more than worthy. But I don’t even care about that. All I want to do is love you, Loki. That’s all I’ll ever want to do. You can’t change that. Let me show you. I will, I promise.” Your eyes were burning, which felt a little silly, but you did not allow yourself to look away from him. 

When he met your gaze, you couldn’t miss the way his own eyes glittered in the lamplight. 

And when he smiled, a familiar lovely warmth flooded through you.


End file.
